The Color of Her Soul
by redtrouble
Summary: [Shadowbringers spoilers!] After eons of looking, of loneliness, of promises, he finally found her again. [f!WoL/Emet-Selch] [Emet-Selch POV]
1. A Disrupted Slumber

**Author's Note: **Shadowbringers spoilers! You have been warned! Also, please note that this is a companion piece to my story "The Promises We Made". It retells the story from Emet-Selch's POV, so it might be confusing if you haven't read that story first. This piece adds in many brand new scenes as well, so I don't think you'll get bored. Please understand that this story tries to capture the man's thoughts and feelings more than the smug swagger he presents in the cutscenes, so I hope you will keep that in mind as you read. Thank you for your time and I hope you will enjoy this story!

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_Her soul is the color of a newborn star. It shines radiantly, shifting colors of simmering heat against the black of space. He moves toward her before his brain knows what his feet are doing. He has no idea what he will say to her when he reaches her. He tells his feet to stop walking but they do not. He wracks his brain for a reason to approach her but his mind is blank of everything but her soul's radiance. And then all too soon, he is standing in front of her._

_She turns to him, the mask hiding her brow and cheekbones and the color of her eyes, but her exposed jaw shows him ivory skin and naturally red lips. The cowl keeps secret the color and length and thickness of her hair. The black robe hides her figure but not her height. She is more than a head shorter than he. And she is already the most beautiful person in the world because the color of her soul has taken his breath away._

"_Hello," he says. She has to tip her head back to look at him._

"_Hello," she says and her voice is light and musical. He tries to think of something to say but his mind is still blank. He stares at her until she laughs, and the sound burrows into his heart. She puts a hand to her chest and gently bows her head. "My name is—"_

Hades opened his eyes with a start when he felt the tug on his mind, urging him awake. Elidibus. Was it time already? He looked around his dark, quiet room. How many years had he been sleeping? He put a hand to his brow and inhaled deeply before sitting up. The soothing, familiar smells and sounds of the city below reached him through the open window and he lingered on the bed, still lost in the haze of his dream. His dream of her…

That bastard had better have a good reason for waking him.

He looked up at the wall above his bed where a dark slab of crystal hung, inscribed with his and her promises in silver lettering. He studied her column of promises, her delicate scrawl so different from his. _I will always love you._ Seeing it still made his heart beat harder.

The crystal of promises has been one of her creations, a gift to commemorate their union. He had quickly marked it first by promising to love her always. She had smiled so brightly as the silver letters etched themselves onto the slab. And then she had looked at him with those vibrant eyes and said, "I promise I will always love you." He remembered the sound of her voice like it was yesterday, lovelier than any song.

Hades stood up and reached out to slide his hand along the engraved words. His promises continued to go on long after hers had stopped being made—had stopped because she had been shattered into fourteen fragments. His fingers curled against the slab, that ancient anguish in his chest aching anew.

"I promise," he said, and the slab began to glow. "No matter how long it takes, I'll restore our world," his hand slid away back to his side, "restore _you_."

The silver letters of his freshly made promise shimmered in the darkness, the day's date etching itself next to the words. His promises were a log of this long and miserable time spent without her, and yet for all the eons he had existed, he had only been able to keep a single one: to love her. He had not been able to protect her, to save her, to find her, or to restore their world…not yet. But he still loved her and he would never stop.

Hades looked at that date beside his new promise and his eyes widened in shock as he realized that it was only the Seventh Astral Era. He had not been sleeping long at all. What had happened to urge Elidibus to wake him?

With one last, long look at her column of promises, he stepped forward into a portal of shadow.


	2. And Then There Were Two

"Lahabrea is dead."

The weight of the declaration hit him like a blow. He stared at the Emissary, struggling to process the information. In all their long eons of life, this had never happened. Three had escaped the sundering and three had existed through the ages…until now. One of their eternal number had been slain. How was it possible? Who could have done it?

"What happened?" he ground out.

Elidibus explained, weaving the known facts with his assumptions into a long and puzzling story of a hero they called the Warrior of Light. Hydaelyn's champion. This supposed _hero_—he choked on the word—was not only a famed primal-slayer, but a rising Ascian-slayer as well. She had not only foiled a number of their plans on the Source, but taken significant measures to unite a great portion of Eorzea against Garlemald and freed two of their conquered domains. And all because Lahabrea was king of the fools and had failed to crush the Champion under heel—nay, had _pushed_ them toward possessing even greater power.

Not that any of this mattered in the grand scheme of things… It was a minor setback in a plan that had been thousands upon thousands of years in action. It was nearly laughable that Elidibus had woken him over such an insignificant gnat. Nearly. Except that Lahabrea had been _killed_.

"And what have you been going?" Hades asked.

"Picking up his pieces," Elidibus answered, "starting in Garlemald."

Hades took a deep breath, feeling himself being submerged once more into the inky, icy depths of their long-standing game. Then, he smirked.

"Tell me," he began, "how _is_ my grandson?"


	3. The First Miracle of an Era

Forever was enough to drive any man insane. And if the Ascians hadn't been engineered for eternity, Hades might have gone mad many millennia ago. Or maybe he had. He was certain he was a little bit crazy, at least. No creature was immune to suffering, and suffer he had. They all had. Though a long-term project like rejoining the reflections to the Source world was feasible for eternal beings like the Ascians, the anguish of losing their loved ones, their culture, their very way of life had ravaged their souls, and the tirelessness of their mission they were compelled to pursue had weighed upon them. And that anguish and exhaustion experienced over eons was perhaps too much for even the Ascians to bear…

He was convinced that Lahabrea had gone absolutely insane, and it was that insanity that had ultimately contributed to his demise. What other explanation could there be for his crowning act of idiocy and colossal misjudgment? And Elidibus, well… Elidibus was strained, and he was certain the Emissary was probably on the verge of a complete mental break.

Hades himself had felt the pangs of madness. Desperate for what he had lost, he had tried many times to live amongst the halfmen. He had broken bread with them, married them, sired children, gone to war, erected empires and watched them fall, become ill, and died with them. One could only live and die with such futility so many times… The disappointment ate away at him like a disease. The emptiness of these half-lives, the emptiness in his heart every time he stared at that wall of promises and screamed at the sky, "Where are you?"—it was a yawning chasm widening with every passing century.

So he slept when he could, let the time slip by until his tempering demanded he rise and play his part once more. And he did nothing to stall his decent into madness… Embraced it, even.

Until the day when he was struck with a clarity so profound, everything changed. The day he went to Doma to find the so-called Warrior of Light…

A night sky stretched above the Doman Enclave, stars littering the expanse. The air was warm and smelled of roasted meats and freshly baked bread. A rotating beam of light from the harbor cut the night as the sound of a crowd drew him further into the city. People bustled here and there, joy in each of their faces. Stalls of goods filled with paper products, colorful fabrics, and wooden carvings lined an entire street. A great square was full of dozens of food stalls, deliciously aromatic and packed with people cradling rice balls and soup bowls and skewers of meat and vegetables. Street performers juggled and danced and acted out stories.

Hades took it all in, surveying the faire and wondering where the so-called Warrior of Light fit into it. Was this some kind of celebration honoring her? It didn't seem like it. Where was the guest of honor? Elidibus had said the Champion was possessed of a humble disposition, though he hadn't dared to believe it until now.

A gasp circled the crowd as a trail of lights began reaching for the sky like a curl of smoke. And then suddenly there was a swarm of lanterns above them, hazy in the fog. He pushed forward to the origin of the spectacle and found a beautiful garden. Musicians slowly plucked stringed instruments. A pavilion sat over a pond peppered with water lilies where people had gathered, some still with lanterns in their hands that they thrust skyward.

He scanned the crowd, looking for any unusual concentrations of light. So far, every individual he had seen was possessed of a lesser soul, muted colors here and there. And then his eyes fell on a very familiar shimmer.

Hades jerked back with such force that he fell on the ground, a strangled cry bursting out of him. People stumbled out of the way, those nearest murmuring in concern, but otherwise no one seemed to notice. Someone tried to help him up but he was too stunned to respond, eyes locked dead ahead.

There she was, the soul for whom his heart beat. It burned at half its original radiance, but the color was unmistakable. As the crowd parted, he saw her face, her smile, and it hit him like a blow. He turned over, falling into shadow, and struggled to breathe. His heart was racing, he was panting, and his whole body was shaking.

It was her. She had been reborn. He had found her. Seven times rejoined. His beloved.


	4. The Rift Between Them

The rift between them was wide.

He had been watching her for months. Had been seeking a way to approach her. Had followed her to the First. He was wide awake, blood thrumming, mind racing. He knew, deep down, that she was no longer his wife. She was the seven-times-rejoined reincarnation of his wife, with a new body and a new identity and a new life, completely unbound to him—a painful truth that cut him to the core like a rusty blade sawing away at a festering wound. And yet everything had changed because there she was, his beloved's soul, a beacon in darkness.

But for an Ascian and an Ascian-slayer, the rift between them was so very wide. He wondered if it was even possible to bridge such a gap.

He would have to try. Time was running out. She had the light of two Wardens inside of her already. There was no time for games or subtlety—not the usual kind, woven over decades. He would approach her honestly, as an Ascian, full of confidence and power and truth, an enemy extending an olive branch. And though he wished to offer her nothing but his heart's sincerity, he knew it would be of no use here. He had to play the part first. He was very good at playing parts. He had had eons to perfect it.

So, when she entered the Crystarium with her friends, he made his move. He approached from behind, looking to take her by surprise, and yet he was the one who was surprised when she suddenly turned and looked at him.

"You certainly took your time," he said, ignoring the way his heart jumped inside his chest. "I had half resolved to complete the task myself."

"And you are?" one of the twins asked but the elder Elezen thrust out his hand and rattled off about "yonder visage" and Garlean history. His knee-jerk reaction was far more sarcastic than the situation called for, so he merely maintained his smile.

"I am Solus zos Galvus, founding father of the Garlean Empire," he announced with a smirk. The confusion mixed with surprise on her face amused him. "And, under various guises, the architect of myriad other imperially inclined nations. As for my true identity…" No point delaying the inevitable. The only way to even begin to bridge the gap was by finding just how wide the rift really was. He ran his hand over his face, revealing his office's mask. "I am Emet-Selch," he said with a bow. "Ascian."

There was shock on her face, yes, but there was also anger. Her brows knitted together and she glared at him. It was more than a warning. It was a threat. _Ascian-slayer indeed._ While she was already wound up, it was a good time to portray the villain, so he spun around and threw his hands in the air.

"Behold, the sky," he exclaimed, beginning his dramatic speech that ended in finger-pointing agitation. He watched as she coiled even tighter, her whole body as taut as a fully drawn bowstring. He loathed to look away from her as the white-haired Hyur boy made his threats. "Happy to let me go, are you?" Emet-Selch calmly asked. "Because the murderous glint in your eye suggests otherwise. Indeed, it is enough to make me think better of confronting you alone." He shrugged, shaking his head. "Look, it did cross my mind to simply side with Vauthry and kill you all, but that's no different than what Lahabrea did. And we all know how well that ended for him…"

He lifted his gaze to the Warrior of Light, allowing himself long looks at her light-colored eyes and naturally red lips and dark hair. So like his beloved and yet still so very different. She was much shorter, for starters, and then there was the matter of the ears and tail… But that soul was unmistakably _hers_, and he loved her no matter her form.

"And so…" he began, her eyes locked on his, and his heart danced in his chest despite his cocky façade, the familiarity of her soul calling to him like a siren's song. He followed the call, drew closer to her. Everyone took a step back—everyone but her. "While it is liable to be troublesome, I have settled upon a different approach…" He stopped in front of her, smirking at the way she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He leaned over to get a closer look at her and declared, "Cooperation!"

Her eyes danced over his face and he wondered what she was thinking. Did she remember him? Even a little bit? Was it too much to hope for? There wasn't an ounce of recognition on her face, just confusion and caution and a potential for violence. He wanted to be closer than he was, wanted to reach out and touch her, to pull her against him, feel her heart beating against his chest. But that would have to wait—if it were even possible to achieve.

"I will not raise a hand to hinder your hunt for the Lightwardens," he promised her. "If you desire it, I will even lend you my knowledge and strength."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, chin lifting just a fraction. The offer puzzled her…but it did not repulse her. There was hope. It would take time, but she was as Elidibus had described: deadly, yes, but also kind, empathic, and possessed of a rare sense of discretion. She had not attacked him outright and she did not immediately reject his offer—guarded, as she should be, but not closed off.

"Just once…might we seek to find common ground?" he asked her.

She did not speak, the others too eager to leap in on her behalf. Elidibus had remarked on that as well and he had seen the proof with his own eyes. She observed before speaking, was never the first to open her mouth. She just watched him argue with the others until he knew it was time to leave her.

Or so he let her believe. She could not see into the shadows. She did not know how he haunted her steps and had ever since he discovered her in Doma. He had abandoned his empire, hidden himself from Elidibus, and immersed himself in her mortal life. And he followed her again to the _Pendants_ and watched as she immediately flung open the shutters to behold the evening sky.

She ate a quick bite of the food that had been left out for her without bothering to sit. He wondered if that was loneliness on her face or just exhaustion. Then she headed toward the hot bath that had been drawn before she had returned. He almost did not concern himself with propriety as she stripped, but he turned his back before the last of her garments hit the floor, smiling to himself at the absurdity of the gesture. He leaned against a wall of darkness, listening to the sound of water lapping against flesh and porcelain, reminiscing of days long gone when he would watch his wife bathing in their spring, admiring her loveliness while pretending to read a book.

When she finished bathing, she dressed in a simple shirt and shorts then set to cleaning and sharpening her chakrams. When the maid came to tend to her clothes and armor, she turned them over with a single bow of her head then went back to the tiresome task of weapon maintenance. Each steady stroke of the whetstone was somehow soothing. He closed his eyes and listened, nearly drifting off to sleep until she stood up, struggled to braid her hair, turned out the lights, and spent the next two hours tossing and turning in bed.

What was she thinking about? _Who _was she thinking about? The light inside her? He could sense it, knew it was filling her up too fast, but doubted she had realized it yet. Maybe she was thinking of her friends? Some ally from the Source or a romantic entanglement perhaps? In the brief time he had watched her before she came to the First, he had spied no such person… He might have killed them if he had. At first, he thought the Doman Lord and she were lovers with the way they laughed and teased one another, but he quickly realized it was only friendship between them.

Suddenly she sprang up, breaking his train of thought, stormed to the vanity, and angrily brushed her hair. He nearly laughed. For twenty minutes, she fumbled through several more attempts to braid it until she finally gave up with a huff. This time, he did laugh, until he saw that glum expression on her face. He knew that expression well. He wore it often.

She got up and went to the window, leaning against one side. He leaned against the other, watching her stare at the sky. He wished he could hold her like he used to, when the world was spiraling toward doom and she had worn such a sad expression. He had held her and kissed her, and it never failed that she found the strength to smile. But he couldn't… Because she was not his wife. Not truly… Not yet.

Instead, he rested his head against the sill and watched her, this woman with a soul like a newborn star.


	5. An Unambiguous Act of Kindness

Hades did it for her. He did not care about the blind Scion nor any of her friends. Just her. His beloved. He hated that defeated expression she had worn, like she was somehow responsible for the reckless actions of the blind one. She had always been this way, his sweet wife—always shouldering others' burdens.

"Oooh, very well," he sighed. "I'll go and fetch her."

When her head snapped up and her tired eyes met his, he saw hope in them and…an ounce of trust. And it was enough to make him smile.

So he did it for her, fetched her friend from the Lifestream. And if he was being honest with himself, he was completely showing off. The look of awe on her face was…exquisite. After a few happy tears and smiles and a very brief thank you from the blind girl, they were all marching back to Fanow, ready to open the Qitana Ravel.

All except the Warrior of Light. She remained beside him, watching her friends disappear over the hill. It was the first time they had ever been alone together. It was…exciting. He wondered if she had something to say to him but was too shy to begin. After a stretch of silence, he broke it.

"What a touching reunion that was," he said, hoping to engage her in conversation before she ran off. "It fair brought a tear to the eye. But, as we both know, such tender moments are nothing if not _momentary_. Before long, they will remember their many differences, and return to squabbling."

She eyed him in disbelief. "Says the arch Bringer of Chaos."

The glib comment caught him by such surprise that he burst into laughter. She was teasing him. Teasing him like she knew him, like they were…friends, almost. It was adorable. And then she smiled, unguarded and warm, amusement sparkling in her eyes. It made him happier than he had been in…too long.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear," he purred, unable to stop the flirtatious tone he took or the smirk that formed. She seemed to know it was a lie the way her eyelids lowered a fraction and her smile became more of a grin.

"Of course not," she murmured, and there it was—attraction, clear as day. She probably didn't even realize it, unlike him, who was quite certain the desire he felt showed plain on his face. She saw it, too, because her eyes widened just a fraction and she looked away. Fear. The heat between them—she was afraid of it. But she was also intrigued. He could tell by her nervous swallow when she turned her head.

"But seriously," he said, pretending nothing had happened to keep her from walking away. "We Ascians do what we do for the greater good. For the Rejoining. Though we may sow the seeds of chaos, it is man who tends them, he who reaps their bountiful harvest."

He waited but she didn't respond. She only stared ahead, doing everything she could not to look at him. Conversation over. He sighed imperceptibly and started toward Fanow, feeling the weight of eons pressing on his shoulders. the weight of the lost, of the dead, of loneliness, of an eternity spent without her, of millennia of convoluted schemes. Once, the madness had put a spring in his step, but no longer.

He had never felt so heavy and the stakes had never been higher, the time so utterly short. He wanted to take his time, get to know her, convince her to fall in love with him as he once had long ago, but the Scions were moving quickly, and already she was on her way to absorb the third Lightwarden. There just wasn't any time…

Still, if she had talked to him a little more, he would've been happy.

"Emet-Selch."

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face her. She was looking at him, into his eyes, and there was no fear in them. She nodded her head respectfully.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, "for saving my friend."

He couldn't have been more surprised if she had suddenly transformed into Bahamut. She gave him a tiny, knowing smile.

"Thank you," she said again. "I am sure you will long outlive me, but for the rest of my days, however long or short they turn out to be, I will always remember what you did here. And I will always be grateful for it, regardless of whether we end as allies or enemies."

Sorrow battled joy as his heart cracked open. Her gratitude was—it meant more to him than he thought possible. And yet her words destroyed him, full of so much hidden meaning and unknown truth. That she thought he would outlive her meant she had no interest in fighting him, in being enemies. Or at least that she thought he would win…but was still willing to trust him just a little. But she didn't know that she was spiraling toward her own doom and there would be only way to save her from it.

He would not outlive her. Not again. He could not spend another eon without her. This time, she would have to be the one to go on without him. And maybe it was better this way, that she didn't know who she was to him or him to her… So that she could move on when it was finished. So that she could still be happy…

"…You're welcome," he said quietly, his throat tight with emotion.

Her small smile remained on her lips as she crossed over to him and, together, they walked side by side back to Fanow. They didn't speak again but that was fine with him. He didn't trust his own voice at that moment. Didn't trust himself not to say something he might regret, do something he knew he shouldn't…

He had lived far too long to lose himself to his emotions, but none of his mistakes would be accidental. He had no interest in restraining himself, not with her walking so close that occasionally her shoulder brushed against his arm. Not when he had seen the desire in her eyes when she looked at him. That she was attracted to him defied logic and reasoning in so many ways, and yet stroked some sensitive part of his ego and some hopeful part of his heart that he began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, his wife had manifested more than he realized.

To an Ascian, identity was ephemeral. They could change bodies and names the way they changed clothes. And one day, S'liya Lhea would realize that name and her Miqo'te body were just part of an identity she had adopted. One day, when her soul was fully rejoined, she would remember her true name… Would remember him. Would remember all of their promises.


	6. A Dancer in Her Soul

Hades stood in the Ocular after another riveting conversation with the Crystal Exarch in which he attempted, once again, to puzzle out his identity. He did not learn anything he did not already know about who the mysterious Exarch was, but he did discern something very interesting.

The Crystal Exarch cared for the Warrior of Light. Not in the way that a victim cares for his savior. It was much deeper than that. Much more personal. Long-standing. And that told him many more things. He would sift through the information later, when he was alone.

For now, his eyes lifted to the magic mirror the Exarch used to keep tabs on her. Hades had never been a jealous man. There was never any reason for it. Not back then, and certainly not in his various mortal incarnations. Whether that was because he had never cared enough about anyone but her or because he had a habit of always getting what he wanted, he really couldn't say. No, he had never been jealous, and there certainly wasn't time for it now, but he didn't like the way the Exarch watched her all the time.

Hades looked to her figure in the portal and he watched her battles from a distance. It struck him how graceful she was. She was fighting for her life, but she looked as though she was dancing. Her feet were a light touch upon the ground, every movement seemingly effortless. She could fight for hours, sweating and panting and wounded, and she would still move with such precision and fluidity from one enemy to the next. A dancer at heart.

In her soul.

_He finds her leaning forward on the railing, the gently rolling ocean beneath her and a canopy of emerald trees beside her. She is looking at neither. Her eyes are up toward the clear sky, seeing something that no one else can see. His footsteps slow as he sees that glint in her eye and her hand lift into the air. There is something in her palm… Suddenly she smiles and that thing she is holding cracks open._

_Thin, delicate wings struggle on her palm for a moment before the creature launches itself into the air. The outer edges of its wings are dotted white, the inner a gradient of dark to light blue with spots resembling eyes. It dances whimsical before her and the sight of it makes him feel light and joyous._

_It is so like her, he thinks._

_She turns to look at him, her smile catching the sun, and he is momentarily breathless. He goes to her, unable to take his eyes off her._

"_What is it you've created?" he asks her._

_She thinks for a moment. "It's a very crude design," she admits. "I'll refine the concept later. For now, it dances."_

_So very like her, indeed._

"_More things in this world should dance," she says absently, watching her creation flutter further toward the emerald canopy._

_She is a dancer in her soul. Expressive and graceful and lovely. She loves to dance and he loves watching her dance. He loves everything about her. Already he knows he wants to marry her. To spend the rest of his life with her. But it isn't the right time for such declarations, so he just smirks and turns his gaze upon the fluttering creature moving farther away._

"_What do you call it?"_

"_Hmmm." She hums it like a song, not a thought, and even sways. He watches as she tests several names, mouthing the words without sound, tasting them. And then she lights up and says, "Flutterbye!" She cocks her head, retreating into her mind once more, and then shakes the thought away. "I'll choose a better one before I finalize the concept." She looks at him, suddenly bashful, and says, "I didn't even say hello."_

"_Neither did I," he reminds her, smiling. He reaches out to take her hand before he knows what he is doing. She lets him. His heartbeat is a thunderous sound in his ears. "Hello."_

"_Hello, Emet-Selch," she says, and her fingers tighten around his._


	7. The Other Side of a Villain

Hades found her in the shade, fidgeting under the heat. She had absorbed four Lightwardens and was practically overflowing. After the Qitana Ravel, he had known for certain that she would not be able to handle all five. "Fighting fit," had been a lie, a kindness to spare exposing her to the others when she had been trying so hard to hide her pain, her exhaustion. It was taking its toll and she was bearing it silently, bravely. He admired her as much as he wanted to scream at her.

It wasn't really her fault. It was her friends and the Crystal Exarch who had steered her into her doom. She had seen no other option and she wasn't one willing to sacrifice others. And from the look in her eye, she knew she was going to die and was still willing to try.

It was noble. And unnecessary. He would not let her die. He only wished there was another way so they would have more time together…

Hades shifted his gaze to the Eulmorans. It was rather remarkable how she and her friends had managed to sway them to their side and inspired them to work together toward a common goal. That it was the self-indulgent sloths of Eulmore made the feat that much more impressive. He took a deep breath to keep from laughing.

"Would you look at that?" he said, catching her attention in his peripherals. "The citizens of Eulmore engaging in what can only be described as 'manual labor'. Who would have thought it possible?"

He slid his eyes to her, letting his amusement show. She just looked at him, tentative ever since the Greatwood. She seemed afraid to let him any closer, to let familiarity breed between them. It was a flimsy defense—she clearly had no expertise in fending off _wanted_ attention. He could break the barrier easily, but should he? He wanted to but endearing him to her would only make it harder in the end. And yet, if these were to be their last days together…

He slowly began walking toward her.

"Do you know the most reliable way to deal with those who stubbornly refuse to see reason?" he asked then immediately said, "You conquer them—crush them under your heel. Such was the trusted method of Allag, and one still favored by Garlemald." He slung his arms out. "But conquest is the _easy_ part. The true challenge begins once the dust has settled—quenching the glowing embers of animosity and maintaining a semblance of peace."

She watched him as he came to stand in front of her, her body tense, her eyes sharp, and her brows slightly indented.

"This requires the conqueror to treat the conquered with dignity, and the conquered to let bygones be bygones," he continued. "A difficult feat to achieve. But you have achieved just that," he folded his arms across his chest, "to my considerable surprise."

Her eyebrows shot up, lips parting ever so slightly.

"It's a compliment," he told her. "Take it."

Suddenly she smiled, unable to maintain her caution any longer. He smiled back and that warmth passed between them again. She looked away but the invisible line connecting them remained taut and electric. They stood in amicable silence for a moment, watching the workers shuffle back and forth.

There was something about it that tickled his nostalgia. How he longed for those golden days of Amaurot. To be amongst equals, men and women of true intelligence and passion. Wise and kind and selfless. Creative, and constantly creating. It was life and beauty in its purest form.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing in the vivacity vibrating around them, and exhaled with a sigh. "Ahh, the vibrant energy that fills the air when like-minded souls gather. To think back on that time before time fair brings a tear to the eye." He side-glanced at her and saw her eyes had widened in astonishment and borderline disbelief. "What?" he snapped, suddenly agitated. "You thought ancient beings like us incapable of crying? Well rest-assured, if _your_ heart can be broken, then so can mine!"

She gasped at his exclamation and he could only grit his teeth. Her surprise annoyed him. Did she truly think him a heartless villain? He had been a normal man once, long ago. He had had hopes and dreams, duties and responsibilities, family and friends and hobbies. He had strived toward the betterment of his society, had found enjoyment in simple debate, and fulfillment in collaboration and creation. He had fallen in love with a woman and married her. He had wanted to have children with her…

It was the calamity that led to Zodiark's summoning, which led to Hydaelyn's summoning and, ultimately, the loss of everything he loved and held dear, followed by eons of anguish and loneliness and disappointment—_that_ is what made a villain of him. Because these halfmen knew only their half-lives, of course they would vilify his goals and deeds. But that was not who he was! He was just a man among fractured souls, looking to restore the world and its people, to return sanity and compassion and peace to their star.

And yet she gasped at his humanity.

"Back when the world was whole, we had family, friends, loves…" he explained softly. He looked up at the ladder just to he wouldn't look at her, his mind tunneling to a time when they had been happily married. "Men knew peace and contentment, and with our adamant souls, we could live for an age. There was no conflict born of want or disparity. Our differences paled into insignificance next to all we had in common. And then there was Amaurot…" His voice became raw. "Never was a city more magnificent. From the humblest streets to the highest spires, she fairly gleamed…"

His chest ached just thinking about it. His replica was stunning but could not compare to the real thing. Filled with ghosts and dead ends. It was the comfort of a kind lie, and he knew it for the lie it was, but he could not part with it. He wanted to show it to her. Wanted her to see, to be in awe and breathless at its beauty.

He wanted her to remember.

Hades eyed her. "Not that you would remember any of this."

"Remember?" she echoed, eyes wide.

He smiled and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Emet-Selch."

It was said with such a commanding tone, a mother scolding her child. He tried not to let his delight show and he innocently answered, "Yes?"

"What do you mean by 'remember'?"

"Never mind," he insisted. It was a mistake to say anything, and yet he had been fully aware of that when he chose to say it. "The point is, the world of old was a far better place than what we have now. I believe you would like it, having witnessed the things you have."

He looked at her seriously, silently demanding she listen to him, consider his words. She huffed and closed her eyes, and eventually the annoyance faded from her face. When she opened them again, she nodded.

"It sounds wonderful," she said, and it made his heart squeeze tightly with joy.

"Remember," he began, "you are of the Source. Unlike the halfmen here, you stand only to gain. Should you survive the remaining calamities, you will become our equal. A complete existence in a complete world."

"And you would want that?" she blurted.

Her question struck him so profoundly, she might as well have slapped him. He looked away, unable to hide the pain he knew was showing on his face. She couldn't have known what such a question would mean, an arrow fired blindly that had nearly struck a killing blow.

Of course he would want that! He had screamed it at the sky, sworn promise after promise, had spent eons looking for her. And to have finally found her… Did she know how much restraint it took not to tell her _everything_? Did she know how he longed to hold her again, because after hundreds of thousands of miserable years, he still loved her? Did she know how much his heart ached watching her from the shadows, watching like an outsider, watching as she laughed with her friends and smiled for strangers, knowing he had no place at her table, that he would always be her enemy?

All he had were memories of paradise still as clear to him that day as they had been back then and an eternity of pain, and here she finally was, his beloved, and he couldn't even call her by her name or tell her that he kept his promise, that very first promise, to love her _always_.

Would he want that? For her to be whole again, his again? There was nothing he would not do, nothing he would not give…

"Emet—"

His head snapped up at the start of his name on her lips. He feigned a smile but could not look at her as he said, "Such talk is a pleasure for later." He turned away and, throwing in all the swagger and snark he could muster, waved over his shoulder. "Back to work, hero."

As soon as he was out of sight, he stepped through a portal of shadow and screamed into the Rift.


	8. All of His Reasons

_You would want that?_

Hades paced ceaselessly, his fists clenched, jaw tight, and brow drawn together. The words replayed endlessly in his mind.

_You would want that?_

Of course he would want that! Hadn't she been listening? His goal was to return the world and all its people to a whole and complete state. She was part of that, or hadn't she realized that by now? Had he not been clear? Did she truly think he saw her as his enemy?

_You would want that?_

He had wanted nothing more for time immemorial. He had consigned a piece of his soul to her when he married her. Their separation had been, at times, utterly unbearable. And now that they had been reunited, it was eating away at him to be apart from her, but being near her only reminded him of his loss, of desires beyond his reach, of his deception, of his _rules_.

_You would want that?_

"Yes," he whispered into the void. He would want that. He wanted her… He shouldn't touch her. It would be selfish. But he wanted to be with his wife again, just once. And she wanted him…

Hades opened a portal. He didn't have to look for her. He already knew where she was, had already watched her take a room at the Amity inn. He pulled on his usual smirk and swagger as he stepped into the dark room.

The first thing he noticed was that she was barely clothed, wearing just her underwear and a thin camisole riding up her torso, leaving her stomach exposed. His throat tightened as desire rocketed through him. The second thing he noticed was her fingertips resting below her hipbone, tapping nervously. Lastly, he noticed the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. The heat was a side effect of the buildup of light inside of her, but he wondered if there wasn't another reason why she might be so hot and bothered. What was she thinking about? Who was she thinking of? And where were those fingers traveling to?

"Oh my, am I interrupting something?" he asked as casually as he could. She went rigid and snapped her hand away from her stomach as she bolted upright, staring at him in shock.

"What are you doing here?"

He was impressed with the measured calm in her voice, tight with tension as it was.

"I got bored watching from the shadows, so I came to talk," he confessed as he moved further into the room. His eyes traveled the length of her body, lingering on her stomach. "Why? I really _was_ interrupting?" He lifted his eyes to hers. She just stared at him, wielding her usual brooding silence masterfully. "What?" he scoffed as he stopped at the foot of the bed. "I couldn't sleep." He briefly smiled. He should be sleeping right now. Had planned to be sleeping for a very long while. He loved to sleep. But now he was wide awake. "And from the looks of it, neither could you. Something weighing heavy on your mind?"

A muscle feathered in her jaw as she stared at him and he could almost see the wheels in her head turning before she at last asked, "What do you want?"

"I told you: to talk." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was true. "I've answered your questions. It's time you answer one of mine."

There went another beat of heavy silence. He couldn't figure out if her struggle to answer him was because she didn't know how to respond or because he really had been interrupting. His eyebrows lifted, amusement cracking his mask.

She opened her mouth, hesitated a second, and then asked, "What did you mean when you said that I wouldn't remember Amaurot?"

Hades grinned. "Still thinking of that, are you? I told you not to worry over it. You have more important concerns right now," he told her. Frustration immediately showed on her face. He sighed. "It's not as though I'm keeping secrets," he assured her, "merely that there is little point explaining at present."

"Then tell me something."

"You're wearing naught but your underwear," he said immediately. She glared at him. "It's distracting," he added, giving her a once-over just to reinforce his point. When she didn't so much as blink, he snorted and asked, "What would you like to know?"

"Your real name."

He couldn't help but smile. It was twice now that she had asked for his real name. He wondered why she wanted to know. It was not as though having his name granted her power over him. She could not say his true name and compel him to spill his truths or complete a task. She just wanted to know… Was it fondness for him? Was it merely intrigue? Or was it his beloved's soul reaching out, grasping blindly for purchase on something familiar.

"So persistent…" He stepped closer until he bumped up against the footboard. "Tell me, hero, what would you do with my true name?"

"Use it," she answered immediately. "As you should use mine."

He almost laughed. "Don't like being called hero all the time? How droll." He waved away the sentiment. "Very well. _S'liya_."

Her face changed upon hearing her name and she sucked in a small breath. He saw the desire he felt mirrored on her face even as she tried to hide it. With the way she was looking up at him, her eyes dark and utterly focused on him, he found it harder to breathe. He wanted to tell her his name just to see her reaction, but it was too soon for that.

"You win," he purred. "I will tell you my name…someday. In the meantime," he shrugged, "Emet-Selch is as good as any name. Or, if it is too many syllables for you, you may call me Solus. I spent long enough answering to it, and this _is_ his image I'm wearing."

She frowned and the heat in her gaze evaporated, replaced by apprehension, anguish, urgency. His grin faded.

"What is it?" she asked. "What are you waiting to see happen before you turn on me?"

He hated that question, that awareness of hers. She was perceptive—or perhaps just expecting the worst of her enemy. Either way, every single one of their pleasant moments had been shattered by this perception of hers. He hated the way the atmosphere suddenly felt so heavy.

"It doesn't matter." Her tone was bitter. She shook her head. "I only know one way forward and, if you gave me another, I might think you were trying to trick me. Maybe you are either way." She got to her knees. "I know you're using me—somehow. I don't even care anymore. I feel—"

She stopped mid-sentence, staring wide-eyed at him. He waited on the edge of that word in nail-biting anticipation, but she did not continue. He lost his patience.

"You feel…_what_…exactly?" he asked, biting each word. Her breath fluttered as she inhaled, quickly composing herself.

"Never mind," she said casually, and he scowled to hear his own answer thrown back at him. "It's not that I'm keeping secrets…" She gave a small, coy smile as he recognized the words he'd just spoken to her. "It's just there's no point explaining it."

Hades snapped.

He snatched her up by her shoulders and crushed her against him, their faces only inches apart. "Now that is a very bad mouth," he growled, his eyes lingering on her lips parted in shock before raking his gaze upward to her gray eyes, large and round with surprise—not fear, he noted. "You haven't pushed me away…" he mused, gaze flicking briefly to her mouth again. "So, let us discuss how it is that you _feel_." He wrapped an arm around her and lifted her up to draw her flush against him, their noses practically touching. "Shall we?"

He waited for her to push him away. For her to fight him. To yell at him. If she didn't do it soon, it would be too late. Her breath was coming in quick, pulse racing beneath his fingertips, excitement and desire plain on her face. He was unraveling, holding her like this, touching her, so close, so close and all he had to do was lean forward an inch and—

Her tongue gently pushed against her lips as her gaze dropped to his mouth. He kissed her and she inhaled sharply. Her arms immediately wrapped around him, fingers tangling in his hair. His mind felt seared white, pleasure and pain ripping through him as he finally, _finally_ was connected to her again.

His tongue brushed against hers in hurried, open-mouthed kisses. Her fingers tightened in his hair and he couldn't help the groan that escaped him. He ran his hands down the curve of her back, across her rear, pulled her tightly against his hips, and was momentarily lost in the heat between her thighs. She moaned as she felt him pressing against her and the sound vibrated through him.

Her hands connected with his shoulders, pushing away from him so abruptly that she fell flat on her ass. They stared at one another, both panting. She was frowning but her face was flushed and her pupils were so dilated with arousal that they looked black. He was trying to figure out her motive for pushing away, but his head was so fogged up with desire that he could barely think straight.

"Why?" she asked, the question bursting out of her.

Oh. Ohhh… Now he understood.

Hades reached up to remove his jacket, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "Why?" he echoed as his jacket hit the floor with a thud, golden ornamentation clunking against the wood. "Because I, too, _feel_ something." He pulled off his gloves with a quick snap then unclasped the collar at his throat. "And right now, that something is a desire to feel _you_." He removed his belt and it, too, thunked heavily against the floor. "To experience the pleasure of your skin against mine." He shrugged out of his robe and quickly undid the buttons on his shirt as he moved to the side of the bed, eyes never leaving hers as he growled, "And you feel the same."

She just stared at him, as though paralyzed. He swallowed hard, taking in her prone form, her curves, her skin so pale in the darkness, her incomparable soul shining like a newborn star. He had searched the Source and all its shards for her for thousands of years…and here she was. Finally. His whole body was taut with an aching desire to touch her again, to hold her, love her.

And here she was, staring at him in disbelief, as though she couldn't comprehend why he would desire to bed her. As though she was less than worthy. As though he would rather be with any other available woman. As if they had ever meant _anything_ to him! They were either vessels to bear his children or women who bore a close enough physical resemblance to his beloved that he succumbed to them when he was in his absolute lowest and most desperate hour of missing her. The anguish was unbearable, manifested as rage, because she was staring at him like bedding her was some kind of scheme she couldn't quite figure out when all he wanted to do was embrace his wife, his greatest love, his _everything_! He wanted to scream at her, _Do you know how long I have searched for you? Do you know how much I love you?_

"Still uncertain, are we?" he asked, a hard edge to his tone. "Still wondering: why you? Why not some other woman? Is it because you are the Warrior of Light? Because our kind have been enemies for so long? Am I scheming something by bedding you? Or is it mere conquest of one so adamant to despise me that drives me?"

She was on her feet in a flash on the other side of the bed, but she was not fast enough. He blinked and was blocking her, trapping her between his body and the bed. She went completely still and glared at him. He smirked at her with an ounce of cruelty to repay her own—that she didn't remember him, that she believed the worst about him.

"I have my reasons," he told her, eyes roving across her face, "none of which are anything you're thinking."

He reached up to cup her cheek, thumb sliding over the delicate scar that slashed through her facial markings. She seemed to surrender just a fraction to that touch, eyes softening from a glare to pleading. She wanted his reasons, wanted him to make this make sense for her. He couldn't do that without telling her everything and telling her everything was out of the question. It was that fact that made him wonder why she hadn't already told him off.

"I'm far more interested in your reasons," he said, lightly brushing the corner of her mouth. "What could motivate one such as you to be here with someone like me—what was it you called me?" He smiled fondly. "Oh, yes. The arch Bringer of Chaos. Whatever would your friends think if they knew their precious Champion of Light bed an Ascian?"

She slapped his hand away, glaring once again. He almost laughed but wrestled it into a cocky smirk.

"Changed your mind?" he asked. She didn't answer. "No?" He slipped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "Good…"

He kissed her and she kissed him back, passion erupting between them. He wouldn't let her go again. He couldn't even if he tried.


	9. The Serenity in Her Arms

Hades lay in the dark with his eyes closed, his every nerve-ending still tingling with satisfaction. She rested atop him, her head on his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. He stroked her back slowly, lazily, drawing lines and circles, and she hummed pleasantly. He was at peace for the first time since before the calamitous events that ripped his world apart.

"We should do this again," he murmured, voice raspy and deep from exertion. She laughed softly, happily. He opened one eye to peek at her and she tried to hide her smile without much success. He liked her smile. It was the moment when she looked the most like his beloved. He chuckled. "Your brooding silence serves you well, but your smiles are far more effective."

Her expression changed as her smile faded, happiness became regard, affection swimming in her eyes. He felt her heart pick up its canter as he continued to caress her back. He wanted this moment to last. Wanted to teleport them to his reflection of Amaurot, to their bed, and remain there for an age or two. Too short. Their time together was always too short. Soon, her companions would come up to fetch her and she would have to go back to being the Warrior of Light.

"I'm surprised you haven't kicked me out," he teased her. "What would your friends say if they barged in to wake their hero and found her lying in bed naked with an Ascian?"

"I'll warn you if I hear them coming."

"How considerate."

Her brows lifted. "Do you want me to kick you out?"

"Of course not," he answered, his hand sweeping low on her hip to curve teasingly onto her thigh. Her skin prickled with anticipation and she briefly bit her lower lip.

"Then…were you hoping to get caught?" she asked innocently.

He had to admit the idea _was_ a bit tempting…but he called her bluff with a pointed yet playful look. "I doubt _my_ reputation is in danger of falling any lower."

She laughed. "And what _would_ your Ascian associates say if they caught you in bed with the Warrior of Light?"

He almost snorted at the idea of it. "There aren't many of us left, you know." He quirked an eyebrow. "Something to do with meeting you…"

She winced. "It's not like I had a choice…"

"Yes, Lahabrea admittedly forced your hand quite a bit. I am sure he would have viewed our circumstances as some scheme and applauded me for it. Elidibus, the insufferable bore that he is, would likely conduct a business meeting to discuss it."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Discuss what?"

"How I intend to use you to further the Rejoining, of course."

"I would also like to know the answer."

He smirked. "Of course, you would."

"Emet-Selch!"

She said it like he was in trouble but there was a teasing glint in her eyes. The name struck him as odd after listening to her cry, "Solus," over and over again while they were making love.

He chuckled and put his mouth against her ear. "Back to my title, are we?" he purred. "You seemed to enjoy my other name so much more."

She flushed a dark red over her entire body as she met his gaze, eyes hooded with desire. "If you had told me your real name," she murmured, "I would have screamed that instead…"

Hades hummed with desire deep in his throat. To hear her call his name instead of his title or borrowed identifiers, to be able to call her true name instead of S'liya—it was enough to rekindle his need for her.

"Do not tempt me, my dear," he warned her, "or your friends shall discover us doing far more than sleeping."

She blushed even deeper and tried to hide her smile by ducking her head against his chest. He closed his eyes as the silence resumed and returned to gently drawing lines on her back, relishing in the familiarity and comfort of being with her. There were many times when he had almost let slip, _I love you_.

"I'm sorry," she rasped, breaking the silence.

"For?"

"For your loss…"

His hand stilled. He looked at her, saw tears lined her eyes, and was so taken aback that he just stared.

"For Amaurot," she continued, her voice barely a whisper. "For your friends, your loved ones, your—" her lower lip quivered "—everything."

Hades felt his jaw tighten as his age-old anguish squeezed his chest in a vice. She didn't try to relate to his pain or pretend she understood. She just looked at him with that tenderness, that sorrow, and it nearly cracked him open. This was his wife, always kind and full of empathy.

His palm flattened on her back and held her tightly against him. He pressed his face into her hair, the dark strands in a dark room taking him back to a time before time. They remained that way as the minutes ticked by until her breath became steady and she started to drift off to sleep. His fingers curled into her hair as he realized their night was ending.

"I wish you would remember," he whispered.

"Remember what?" she mumbled sleepily.

He gently turned her onto her back, laid her head on the pillow, and brushed the hair from her face. "My promises," he replied. She made a small noise and then was fast asleep.

Hades watched her for a long while, drinking her in. It didn't matter what body she wore, her radiant soul made it beautiful, made his heart pound, his knees weak, his breath ragged. He ran his long, thin fingers through her hair, brushing out the tangles. He stroked her bare shoulder, her thighs, her stomach, counted the tiny freckles, studied the nicks and scars in her flesh from years of combat. He ran his palms across her skin, burning the feeling into his nerve endings. Finally, he leaned down and caressed her lips with his.

"I love you," he whispered. "My beloved. My Persephone."

He drew the thin sheet over her naked form, kissed her brow, and left.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Before you lambaste me for using Persephone (I know, Hades and Persephone, how cliche), please hear me out. I, too, agreed it was too on-the-nose, and I was looking for alternate names. In my search, I learned that Persephone's name meaning is unclear. Because it had so many variations, it is believed her name had pre-Greek origins, so no one can be sure from what her name derived, thus what it means. There are many guesses, however, and among those are the meanings: destroyer, the bringer of light, and destroyer of light. The ambiguity of her name's meaning meshes well with the mystery of the WoL/D's past while the possible meanings fit the identity of the WoL/D so well that I decided I had to use it as her Ascian name. Please forgive me, but I had my reasons!


	10. The Mask He Wore

Hades took a deep and shuddering breath as Vauthry exploded into pure light. It was time for him to play his part. It was time for him to be her villain.

He took one step and then another, slowly striding toward her, her friends gathered nearby as she absorbed the final Lightwarden. Her scream cut him to the bone. She twisted, agonized gurgles and grunts ripping out of her as the light overwhelmed her. His jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth hurt.

The Crystal Exarch threw himself in front of her and began siphoning the light. Hades listened as he revealed his true intentions, his noble sacrifice. He had gone through all this trouble for her sake. Curious. But pointless. She needed the light. She had to have it, to master it, if she was going to be strong enough to forge a new path.

He withdrew the pistol from his coat and took aim. He didn't want to do this to her, to show this face to her. He didn't want to have to say the things he was going to say…but she needed a villain. She needed the stakes to be so high, they seemed impossible to overcome, and she needed a cause other than herself to fight for. If it was just her life on the line, she wouldn't be able to find the strength. If she didn't have an evil to triumph against, she would reach the threshold of possibility but would be unable to cross it. He had to give it to her. Because he had to save her.

He had once promised her that he would do anything to save her, even if it made him a villain. Back then, he had summoned Zodiark despite her protestations. And today, he would make good on that promise once more…

He pulled the hammer back, aim locked on the Crystal Exarch, and squeezed the trigger.


	11. His Final Promise

Hades hated that he had to force her into Amaurot under such horrible circumstances. He had wanted to bring her on his own, as friends, as lovers, as…his wife, if she would remember it. He wanted to walk those streets with her, show her every glorious detail he had remade. _It sounds wonderful_, she had said. He wanted to show her just how wonderful it was!

But that was beyond him now. He was the villain he had always been in the eyes of the Scions. They would never meet again as friends. He was going to push her to the brink of destruction and then he was going to force her to kill him.

So he had been sure to leave her unrestricted access to the entirety of his reflection of Amaurot—the keys to the kingdom—so that one day, if she remembered, if it ever meant anything to her, she could home again.

Hades opened his eyes and looked at the shade of himself he had created. It was limited, temporal, but should she ever go looking for answers, should she ever go looking for _him_, it would be waiting for her in their old home. It would tell her the truths that he could not afford to tell her himself.

Hades took a deep breath as he sensed her approaching the Capitol building. It was time. He stood from his bed and looked up at the dark slab of crystal hanging above it.

"I promise," he began, and the slab began to glow as silver letters engraved upon the crystal, "I will save you."

And then he walked through shadow to meet her at the doors to the final days.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The song "Without You" by Ursine Vulpine and Annaca fits these two really well, so please consider giving it a listen while you finish this story.


	12. A Trick of the Light

She could barely stand. She was overflowing with light, overwhelmed with pain. He was aggrieved by the sight, but it was too late to regret this path. She had fought her way across a long and challenging battlefield to come to him and it had taken almost all her strength.

"Well, well, you prevailed," he growled. "Nevertheless!"

He flung out a wave of energy that drove her to her knees and flung the rest of her companions onto their backs. She looked at him, bruised and bleeding and glowing with light, and her eyes screamed, _Why?_

"Your performance was underwhelming," he explained, "and I remain unconvinced of your worthiness. Oh, you tower over your misbegotten ilk, no doubt. But should I bring my full might to bear, well…you would be as leaves in the wind." He tipped his chin up, looking down on her. "The gulf between us is a reflection of the disparity between the world as it was…and what it has become."

The small Elezen girl suddenly flew at him, rapier extended. It struck his shield but could not pierce it, even with the explosion of magic she drove down the forte to the point. He gazed at her struggling uselessly against his strength, fear and determination on her face.

"Our worlds may not live up to your lofty standards," she growled, "but they are _our_ worlds!" she cried. "_Our_ homes! Full of life and love and hope!" She stepped back and charged again, hacking at his shield. "And we won't stand by and let you destroy them!"

His gaze softened as he saw in her a fraction of himself, struggling against the coming destruction, desperate to save the people and places she held dear. He had known this vain struggle, had been there long ago. In every single way that mattered, he was still in that struggle.

He didn't want to hurt the girl, but he would have to remove her from this fight. He would have to remove all of them. The Warrior of Light had to be driven to the very brink… So he hardened his gaze, lifted his hand, and batted her away with ease. She flew back and hit the ground hard. Her brother shouted after her, racing to her side.

"Alisaie!" S'liya screamed, doubled over. She tried to stand but her feet just slid out from under her. The boy scooped up his sister, cradling her tenderly in his arms.

"You are a mistake," Hades told him, egging him on, daring him to give him a reason to knock him out of the coming conflict. It didn't take long to push the right buttons. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, sending a rain of spikes against the twins.

"No!" S'liya shrieked.

Each spear detonated in succession, creating explosions that looked far worse than they were. When the smoke cleared, the boy was slumped protectively over his sister, both unconscious. Rage contorted S'liya's face as she looked at him.

_Good_, he thought. _Surrender everything you have so that you can become more_.

She slowly pushed herself to her feet, agony on her face as she inched toward him, feet sliding along the ground at a snail's pace. He eyed the rest of her companions recovering from his earlier attack and knew he had to provoke them.

"Still fighting the good fight…" he hissed and launched a blast of energy at her, prompting the Elezen astrologian to erect a shield on her behalf. While she thought he was distracted, the blind Miqo'te conjured a globe of fire above his head and dropped it on him. Her magic was not strong enough to pierce his shields. He sent two shadow flares through the debris cloud and struck them down.

He strode out of the cloud as it dispersed. S'liya was still inching toward him, eyes lolling as she struggled to stay conscious. He taunted her with insults, driving her forward, needing her to reach that threshold of power.

Light burst out of her and she fell to her knees, clutching her head, screaming. His whole body tensed in fear and hope. She doubled over as mini explosions of light popped all over her body. He forced himself to laugh.

"You see?" he taunted her. "The Light will not be denied! Surrender to your fate, and let the transformation take you!"

The Hyur threw himself across the field, his gunblade brought to bear. Hades lifted his arm and erected a simple shield, locking him in place.

"Now, Ryne! Now!" the Hyur yelled, looking over his shoulder.

The small girl sprinted toward her fallen hero, desperate to try to contain the light. Hades pushed the Hyur back with a wave of energy and sent him flying. Then, with a simple swing of his arm, speared the little girl with shadow magic. She dropped to the ground just steps away from the Warrior of Light, desperately reaching for her until she collapsed.

Hades had been careful to use the smallest fraction of power against her friends. It was enough to disable them, to knock them out of the coming conflict, but he didn't dare truly harm them. He would never rob her of her loved ones, but he had put on a convincing performance and the look on her face as she saw her friends falling around her brutalized him. He smiled, smiled because he could not let her see how much it hurt him to do this to her.

S'liya tried to stand again but another series of small explosions of light drove her back down. She spit up wads of liquid light, heaving, and then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell.

Hades waited, breath held, for some sign. This couldn't be the end. She would find her strength. She had to. He had created the perfect conditions, set the stakes so high, made himself into the ultimate villain. She could not fall here. She would not allow herself to fall here! She would rejoin with the eighth part of her soul that had been haunting her footsteps and she would rise again. She had to!

He watched her lying there, leaking glowing droplets, and was struck with fear. He could not have miscalculated. He could not have failed her… He started toward her.

Light exploded out of her, creating a flare of light so bright that it burned his eyes. He threw his hands in front of his face to shield himself as the pillar of white shot up into the dark sky. He squinted against the brightness and saw a figure standing up. He lifted his head, hope in his heart, and his eyes went wide.

There she was, standing tall, her soul the color of a newborn star shining brilliantly in the column of light. It was not a reincarnation. It was _her_.

Persephone.

He dropped his hands. "No," he growled in disbelief. "It can't be…" There was no way she could manifest so completely after only eight rejoinings! Was this real? Was it really her? One foot slid forward and he narrowed his gaze, struggling to see through the glare. He found S'liya looking at him, her spine straight and her gaze strong. "A trick of the light," he realized. "Nothing more."

He struggled over his disappointment and shock, goading her into the fight that would temper that excess light. The Crystal Exarch made his grand reappearance from where Hades had left him, weak but alive…and unrestrained. He met her gaze as the Exarch summoned champions from beyond the rift to aid her.

"I challenge you, Emet-Selch," she said, and it was said with _her_ voice. His wife's. Calm and clear and strong and, somehow, still kind.

He gritted his teeth and nodded. "Very well," he growled and started walking toward her. "Let us cast aside titles and pretense and reveal our true faces to one another!" He summoned up his power, the red mask of his office falling in place. It was finally time to tell her his name. "I am Hades!" he boomed. "He who shall awaken our brethren from their dark slumber!"


	13. The Color of Her Soul

As the darkness faded and the bright light of a new dawn settled around them, Hades used what little power he had left to pull them out of the present and into a private, stolen moment. He took the form most familiar to her, that of Solus zos Galvus, and concealed the glittering hole she had cut through him.

He stood across from her. The sky was grapefruit orange, the rising sun spearing through thick clouds. Dispersed light glittered all around them. She was breathing deeply, her gambeson ripped and frayed, clothing tattered, and braid partially undone, but she was alive. The light had been tempered and was at balance. She was stronger, more complete. His plan had worked. There was no reason to hold back anymore…

He reached up and pulled his hood back.

"From the moment I saw you," he began, "I knew who you were. I knew that you were her. And I knew you wouldn't remember me. But, oh…" He looked at her with utter adoration. "How I wanted it to be true." He smiled and closed his eyes. "I was drawn to your soul. Fragmented, but unmistakable. Even as a mere shade of your former self, you are," he inhaled then whispered, "inspiring." He opened his eyes and looked at her again. "And now you are one soul closer to being whole."

Hades thought of the way Persephone had manifested in the light for just a second and wondered if it could really be possible that she— "Do you…" His eyebrows dipped with his hesitancy to ask, but hope opened his mouth. "…remember?"

"Amaurot?" she asked. "No…"

The word struck him with the finality of a nail hammered into a coffin.

"I don't remember the calamity that destroyed it or the summonings that led the world to shatter," she said. "I don't remember the people, who I was, or…your promises…"

He hung his head with a single nod. He had expected it but was not entirely prepared to hear it confirmed. He had harbored hope—false hope, futile hope—that maybe, before he disappeared forever, he would be more to her than an Ascian. He had been foolish.

"The only thing I know," she continued, a nervous tremor in her voice, "is that I love you."

Hades' eyes widened in shock and he snapped his head up to look at her.

"And I don't know why," she confessed. "The first moment our eyes met, my heart jumped. I thought it was a warning. Because you were dangerous. But every time after, my heart raced in your presence. When you looked at me. At the sound of your voice. And I…_felt_…for you. Intensely. Overwhelming."

His entire body was shaking. Could it really be true? Had one thing—the most important thing—truly surfaced in her fragmented soul?

"I knew you were my enemy," she went on, confusion in her brow. "I kept telling myself this, over and over. You're an Ascian. You're lying to me. You will betray me if I give you even the smallest part of me! And even as I fell deeper in love with you, I knew I was a fool. I was waiting for you to turn on me, waiting and hoping _not yet_. I wasn't ready. Because this feeling only continued to grow." She frowned and shook her head. "Is this feeling a memory? Or is it my own?"

_Oh, it is both_, he thought, because the emotion was imprinted on her soul. It did not matter what form she took. Hades started walking toward her, joy ripping through him in devastating blows. She lifted her gray eyes and looked at him in such tormented longing and bewilderment.

"Who were you to me," she whispered, "that I would feel this way?—beyond all sense and reason." She swallowed. "Who was I to you?"

He surged forward and cupped her cheeks, drawing her against him. "My wife," he rasped and kissed her.

She threw her arms around him, answering his kiss with such intensity it was as though eons did not lie between them, as though a single day had not been lost. He tightened his hold on her, crushing her against him. The very fabric of his being seemed to split at the seams as he was torn back to that blessed time before time, when all the world was perfect and they spent each day in blissful love.

He was panting when he broke the kiss, made breathless by his own emotions and the warmth of her mouth. "You loved me," he whispered in awe, "across the very fragmentation of your soul." He kissed her again, drawing her closer. "And I have loved you," he growled against her mouth, "across _eons_."

He clutched her against him and rested his cheek atop her head in a final embrace. There were tears in his eyes that he did not want her to see. His strength was failing him, their time ending. He surrendered his remaining power, trying to hold onto the moment long enough to tell her one last thing.

"I know why you did it," he murmured. "I always knew. And I understood. I never hated you for it. Never blamed you. I knew why. Because you wanted to save me." He tightened his grip on her, desperation filling his voice as he spent the last of his power. He _needed _her to hear it, to understand before they were separated forever. "I want you to know, I did it for you, too. To save you. I did it for you…" He felt her shaking as she sobbed, light quickly enveloping them. "Then," he whispered, "and now."

Everything went white.

They were once again standing across from one another. This time, he could not hide the glittering hole through his center. He reached up as if to touch the wound, but the futility of the gesture stopped him. He pulled his cowl back and looked at her, her face a picture of anguish.

And yet, he was at peace. He had promised her that he would save her and he had kept his promise. And she…she had kept hers. She had promised to always love him…and she had. Across the fragmentation of her soul, after the passing of eons, she had loved him.

"Remember," he said. "Remember us. Remember that we once lived."

She nodded, lower lip quivering and eyes filling with tears. He closed his eyes in contentment as he felt himself fading. He looked at her one last time and offered her a playful grin as everything disappeared into a wash of glittering white.

_Her soul is the color of a newborn star, and it has never ceased to be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. But her bright smile is a close second._

_She welcomes him home with that smile and his chest aches in longing. Her eyes sparkle in the glittering light that is streaming in. She comes toward him and he meets her halfway, already reaching for her._

_They kiss and he is filled with warmth._


End file.
